Pick Up Line

After many years of marriage my husband still really likes to date me. He’ll often communicate with me during the week saying he’d like to stop somewhere cozy on the way home from airport. When the week is over I’ll often arrive to pick him up in my jeans and patagonia. We will discuss the concept of having a date and it usually goes something like this:

Mayor:      So where would you like to stop?
Roberto:   We could go to California Pizza Kitchen. Do you think there will be a wait?
Mayor:      Probably. We could pick up a carry out.
Roberto:   I’m really tired. Something light would do.
Mayor:      I’m really not that hungry either. We could just have a sandwich at home.
Roberto:   Yeah, Big Black will want to go for a walk.

Truth be told we are both to worn out from the week to follow through on the plan. Home we go to try and revive ourselves for the following week. And Big Black is a lot of dog to walk.

It was a recent Saturday evening and I was making an airport run to retrieve my husband. I decided to get a bit tarted up for the usually
blase chore that I am often “on call” for. You see it had been a week of particularly positive meetings after a year of complications
so I thought something special was in order. We had also had a few days of warmer weather, a spring tease so I thought it was time to put on something other than
a turtleneck sweater.

I perused my closet for something sassy to wear thinking, “Do I really want to do this? It has been a long day and these girls are on my last nerve.”
The ladies were a little suspicious when I agreed with their early dinner plans to order pizza without them even having to sell me on the idea.
Yes, I am going to follow through on this! I pulled out my very sultry Trina Turk dress. An hour later I had straightened my hair, sprayed on some Trish McEvoy #9, moisturized and put on my make up. I slipped on the dress, the heels and thought, “oh, this feels nice”. I’m going to pick up my prince charming and I’m looking pretty fine.

I pulled out of the garage into the dark to proceed to the airport.... in the pouring rain with the wind howling at about 40 miles per hour. Five minutes later I zipped down the ramp onto the freeway into a thick blanket of fog. Despite the inclement weather I made it to the airport, parked in the cell phone lot and pulled out my sudoku puzzle. Prince Charming had checked his bag since he was bringing back a couple extra lap tops so I worked 2 puzzles while waiting.

My mind wandered because I tend to get bored easily. I know we will have to wait in the bar due to it being a Saturday night. Maybe when we get to the restaurant I’ll pretend like I don’t know him and only speak French... finally he called, he was waiting in the usual spot. I had wanted to pull up early to stand by the car, posing all vampy like in my trench coat and high heels. Keep in mind my heels could never compare to the famous Stiletto Mom’s Christian Louboutin’s stilettos, but they are high heels just the same.

I had to advance to plan B of simply pulling up to the terminal due to the fact that standing in the pouring rain was not the image I was going for. I fantasized I was pulling into pit row as I eased the car to a stop in front of Prince Charming and he piled in. A large smile broke across his tired face and he said, “It looks like you have some plans for me this evening”.
I said,“ indeed I do”. Then it hit me... Prince Charming was wearing his sweat suit. Rats, this is a complication I was hoping wouldn’t occur. Roberto (being pretty quick when he needs to be) said, “I can change when we get there, I’ll just pull my clothes out of my suitcase.” What do you know, we seemed to be in agreement on making this date thing work out.

So it was settled and I eased my way back onto the freeway and headed back to our side of town. The rain was beating on the windshield, the wind was whipping around and it was quite the white knuckle drive. I started thinking, maybe we had better postpone this date. No, it’s always something. We agreed on a place quickly before we could talk ourselves out of it. I pulled into the parking lot that was packed with cars and flooded with water. “Looks like a big wait”, I said (meaning this is your last chance to back out). Prince Charming insisted we at least go in for a drink. I made my way through the lot but it was seriously flooding. Prince Charming said, “ pull in this spot and climb over to the passenger seat. I’ll run around and drive up to the door for you.” So I hoisted myself into the other seat in a very unladylike fashion and was chauffeured to the restaurant door. I said, “ don’t bother changing, you’ll just get drenched swimming in from the parking lot”.

I swung my nylon encased legs out out of the car and plopped directly into a big puddle.The water promptly soaked my feet, heels and all. Despite my soaking feet I did my best to sashay on up to the door and into the bar to wait for a table. I was a little surprised to feel some of the male eyes being laid on me, I guess guys like that windswept look? Oh yeah, I forgot I had on my come and get me dress. A few minutes later, my date appeared quite wet in his sweat suit and running shoes. And you know what, I didn’t care (although I do spend a fair amount of time criticizing his choice of clothing he wears in public). I just smiled and patted the barstool next to me.

I ordered up a big fat Cosmo and proceeded to have our long awaited date. It was a superb Cosmo, with the leftovers that wouldn’t fit into the martini glass poured into a cute little cylinder so I could refill my own coctail. We talked and we sipped and ended up ordering a dinner to split right there at the bar. We sat there wondering if all of these people who were packed into this place were like us, trying to forget the dire circumstances Detroit and Michigan are in, even if it’s only for a few hours.

We got home at a reasonably late hour for a couple of old coots, one totally tarted up and the other basically in his pajamas that are often a 24 hour a day multipurpose uniform. Goes to prove, once again, there is more than one way to let the good times roll.

Hall of Shame

2008 was not a good year for Detroit. We had to endure constant commenting on TV, by friends and relatives from other states. Yes our now ex-Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick brought a new level of publicity to the Big D. Old Kwame walked out of the county jail last week and boarded a plane for Texas. Seems he’ll be down there to bring his hip hop Gangsta stylings to the Lone Star state just in time for rodeo. And all the good people here say, “keep on riding and take that Amazon wife with you, please!’ Have you noticed the similarities of when a public official gets caught in something naughty? They trot out the trusty wife and invite the most high profile preacher over for a photo op. Never fails.

Then there are our shining sports franchises. Detroit Lions, worst season ever. Tigers, not so good either. Don’t you agree 162 games is a bit much? It's too darned cold in the spring and fall to mess with baseball and I am annoyed when the World Series screws up the television line up in the October.

If that wasn't enough public humiliation for 2008 we got to finish out the year with the Big 3 (talking auto industry here) getting their butts whopped publicly by our oh so superior government officials. What, may I ask has happened to common sense? Even I, a worn out SAHM would have known I needed to hire a top notch publicist and not arrived in DC in my corporate jet.

Well there is not a thing I can do about most of that mess. Here at home we have our own personal Hall of Shame to work on:

Now, you all know I can be a bit of a neat freak. There’s a whole section of my home I try to spend very little time in because it MAKES ME CRAZY. My new tired line (to add to my repertoire) is, "I would like to come in there to kiss you good night but your room makes me want to throw up". And do not tell me about one more buy one pair get another for half price sales at Delia's, if I can't make it across your floor without falling into the abyss we are not going to the mall. We have no shortage of storage space around here. We are talking ample closets, private bathrooms, dressers, shelves...anything you can imagine. Yet they still choose to be slobs.

Keeping your room freaky neat is not all that hard if you pick up as you go. That's my secret  (no one around here wants to listen to). That advice is as about popular as the clean plate club which we all now know just leads to eating disorders. The bonus to a picked up room is that you know where your stuff is. Amazing.

Jack is Back

Jack is back and so am I. As the Mayor of Sasstown I granted myself an extended administrative leave for reasons I still have not figured out. This has been by far one of the most disconcerting holiday seasons I have ever experienced and the recovery has been slow. Having the kids off from school all of that time in addition to my husband underfoot just about did me in. The extreme wintery conditions that confined us indoors most of the time only added to the insidious mind sucking energy flowing through our home. It’s amazing that the new year got here without my head popping off.

Faced with this kind of challenge in the past I might have found excuses to get out of the house in hopes that being swept up in a crowd of people who were putting out an anticipatory vibe would raise my spirits. Unfortunately here in the big D (the Detroit area for you non-automotive types) it is impossible to escape the cloud of anxiety the seems to have enveloped everyone great and small. Here in Michigan we are way ahead of the economic slump curve the rest of the country is just beginning to experience and it shows on all of our faces. The last few years have taught us that even if your career is not directly auto related, watching ever increasing job loss, an exodus of people and the tax revenues they represent and the free falling home values illustrates firsthand how our whole region is suffering.

So when the real world is overwhelming it’s time to escape into books, movies and the new season of television. I let myself be engrossed with my daughter’s Twilight series, you know the whole Edward Cullen vampire vs Jacob Black werewolf drama. Not always one to follow the crowd I’m kind of a Jacob fan. Maybe it’s some loyalty mojo bubbling up from the tiny sliver of Cherokee running through me. My daughters have all seen the movie several times and I’m glad I waited to finish reading the book before I let them take me. It was worth the wait, with many clever moments and breathtaking scenery from the Pacific Northwest.

I’m closing in on finishing season 3 of Dexter, which is my new number one favorite program. It’s safe to say I have sort of a crush on Dex. His foul mouthed sister Deb is my favorite character and I’m trying not to pick up her nasty language habit. Most of my friends can't understand how a show about a serial killer has risen to my number 1 spot. Dexter Morgan lives by a strict moral code where he feels it is his obligation to kill killers who have gotten away with murder. Michael Hall's character just has this cool, understated monotone geek charm that is hard not to love. It's one of those shows you really have to see to understand what I am talking about.Each of the characters in this Miami Homicide crew have chemistry that's fun to watch and the writing is inventive and full of surprises.

Jack, is of course back and I’m keeping half an eye on the story line. 24 has not really held my interest the last two seasons but curiosity has me watching to see how Jack handles himself in the new politically correct culture. I am a fan of Jack’s style of getting the job done by any means necessary and cutting through all the BS along the way. I have successfully guided 3 out of 6 kids through the teenage and college or as I like to call it the pseudo-adult phase, I am a proponent of counter-surveillance and torture if the circumstances are dire. Bribing bad boyfriends to GO AWAY is a specialty of mine. Privacy, forget about it. Anything that is in my house, my car, your backpack, anything that I am paying for (like college grades) is my business. I could probably teach CTU a thing or two.

Now my method of watching a movie or tv program at home usually goes something like this. I walk through the family room on my way to some task awaiting me and one of my loved ones will have chosen something and I will watch for brief intermittent periods. If my interest is piqued I will monitor it from the kitchen. If I’m really taken with it I will go sit down with them and fold the never ending laundry.

Last week my youngest was watching Dirty Dancing with Patrick Swayze. I got pretty focused on it by the time it got to the famous “you don’t put Baby in a corner” scene. Next thing you know I'm shushing everyone as the “now I’ve had the time of my life and I owe it all to you” dance ensues. I really shocked myself when I felt...um...I hate to admit it but I felt weepy! You have to understand I have a long standing policy against crying in public. I hate crying period. I’m pretty sure my moment of weakness was due to the knowledge of Mr Swayze’s cancer diagnosis and I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for him.

It’s really annoying when reality intrudes on my escape time. I need my escape time these days, I am not as resilient as I used to be. It’s always been my job to be the rock, to know the practical solution in most situations. Right now I am just glad that in my time of weakness and anxiety I can rely on my faith to lead me. I’m a bit tired and anxious, but still a rock.

It's Not All About The Turkey

Thanksgiving 2008: Part II

It’s safe to say that the food is very important, I think we covered that topic earlier this week. It’s definitely the most time consuming.

But that’s not what it is all about.

The beverages play a crucial part. This is my husband’s job for most occasions. Stocking the bar. Period.
Oh, and putting real clothes on (versus his “working at home” uniform of sweat pants and a patagonia).
It’s a job he enjoys. He likes to shop and he likes to pick out wine. So this is a good fit for him.

Here’s my recipe for a memorable and fun holiday.

1. Good food
2. Creative drinks
3. Interesting people ( I hate to be bored)
4. Thankful hearts
5. Lots of humor

Keep in mind, we do hospitality around here vs entertaining. There’s a big difference. Although a tremendous amount of effort can go into
a weekend of socializing, it never turns out perfectly. Something outrageous is bound to happen or go wrong. A recipe will flop. Someone will get their feelings
hurt. Someone will forget to flush the toilet or heaven forbid plug it up. Something will get broken.

Plan B is always put into place and that is to have fun and enjoy your time together no matter what the circumstances.

It looks something like this:
And like this.

And this

And last but not least

What’s amazing is that this whole gang of people actually like each other. It takes a lot of effort to all come together- but it’s exactly where we want to be.

Are You In The Mood?

We take eating pretty seriously at my house (obviously we don’t take ironing seriously at all). Pictured here is the first course of our Thanksgiving dinner (Brie cheese packages aside a salad with pecans, dried cherries and raspberry vinaigrette). I make most things from scratch. I’m pretty passionate about homemade salad dressing. I truly wish I weren’t quite so picky and that stuff out of a box or bottle tasted better to me. It would save me a lot of time. I have often been quoted that making a really good meal is going to take a time allotment of about 2 hours plus cleaning time. (This does not mean a holiday meal, that’s allotted around 3 days). Luckily I am currently a lady of leisure, house bag, stay at home whatever..... and my family has gotten pretty spoiled.

That can cause problems. The kids go to friends homes for dinner then come home and pull out our leftovers because “they didn’t like the food at so in so’s house”. Kids go off to college and have a hard time adjusting to dorm food. 2 semesters being the record for actually staying in the dorm. (I’d be lying if they didn’t say noise and sharing a bathroom was a factor also). The traveling husband has also been known to phone home complaining about his unmet needs on the road.

All you feminist readers can stop the eye rolling right now, I’m not Betty Crocker or anything lame like that. I have a Bachelors of Science degree for Pete’s sake and have enjoyed several careers. But I am half southern so I do have the unmitigated knack for throwing things together (without measuring) that will most likely result in food that is above and beyond the call of duty. Everyone around here knows that the best meals happen when I am IN THE MOOD to cook. The perceptive of the bunch realize that I can make things quite unpleasant around here when I’m pushed into cooking (or anything else for that matter) when I’m not really feeling it. I can be a real bitch in that respect.

Another little tip: NEVER ask me what is for dinner. That innocuous little question has set off fireworks on occasion. You see with the size of the crowd around here, on any given evening, someone will not be happy with my menu plan. They may foolishly voice their displeasure and next thing they know the wrath of the Mayor will come down upon their head. One of the unspoken rules of this place is if you don’t like what’s been prepared for dinner you keep your trap shut. Then you quietly make yourself an alternative without making an added mess.

Princess #5 is aptly demonstrating this method by not voicing any disgust regarding the well rounded meal pictured here. On the down low, she just whips out the ketchup bottle and dresses up her pasta the way she prefers it. No, I don’t make my own ketchup...it’s Heinz all the way. I once tried to substitue the store brand and it was a no go.

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It really shouldn’t surprise anyone that #3 Princess is a Pastry Chef by trade, currently working in the third floor kitchen of The Whitney in Detroit. It was her idea to do the “Brie cheese packages” (bite sized brie cheese wrapped in phyllo dough with a dollop of blueberry jam hiding inside) to go along side our salads for Thanksgiving dinner this year. I wisely persuaded her to do these a few days ahead of time because she is not a production worker.... she leans towards the artistic side so pastries are actually a good fit for her personality.

First we have a chocolate pyramid accompanied by 4 fresh raspberries stuffed with chocolate fudge topped with a raspberry puree. Secondly for your now salivating tongue we have carrot cake topped with whipped cream and carrot sorbet, which I would prefer in a layered cake with cream cheese icing.

Last but not least we have the last pathetic piece of our Thanksgiving pumpkin pie (one slightly squished piece was all we had left for me to take a picture of today). And while the whipped cream is not homemade this year, but the presentation is as it should be. It looks like a traditional piece of pie!